


First Impressions

by suckerfordeansfreckles



Series: More than just a First Impression [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Hospitals, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Roommates, Sharing a Room, Sharing a hospital room, Surgery, Texting, Trans Castiel (Supernatural), Trans Male Castiel (Supernatural), Trans Male Character, top surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23252059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suckerfordeansfreckles/pseuds/suckerfordeansfreckles
Summary: When Cas wakes for the first time after his surgery, there’s sunlight tentatively streaming through the window to his right.It takes him a while of uncoordinated blinking and thinking until he realizes where he is, why he’s here. And then the giddiness comes, sudden and overwhelming, when he looks down at his chest and there is none.The reality is almost too much to grasp and his hands shake a little when he tries to raise them to touch.He's happy, and giddy, and so thankful.And then a nurse wheels in his new roommate, one very obnoxious and flirty Mr. Winchester.Cas just... cannot wait to watch all of this play out.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: More than just a First Impression [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671838
Comments: 109
Kudos: 539
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WingsandImpalas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingsandImpalas/gifts).



> Hello my friends! After what feels like years, I'm back with this fic my sweetest [wingsandimpalas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingsandImpalas/pseuds/WingsandImpalas) prompted 100 years ago, inspired by [this post](https://super-sootica.tumblr.com/post/186032555179/amyoatmeal-shadowoftheforce-i-want-a-fic-o). I hope you guys like it!! 
> 
> HUGE thank you to my loves  
> [casbean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/casbean/pseuds/casbean) and [shark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish) for encouraging me and making me want to write again. And beta'ing this mess!
> 
> A TRIGGER WARNING, LASTLY: mentions of hospital, blood and drains, bruises and broken bones, bandages, scars, IVs and all that stuff, ftm Cas, transphobia (or fear of it) and mentioned homophobia. I swear this is a soft story, though.

Cas wakes up for the first time when a nurse wheels him back into his room. He feels groggy, his eyes heavy and his head buzzing in a way that isn’t entirely awful, at least. He looks up at the nurse, a lady with gorgeous, flowy red hair, as she rolls his bed back against the wall. 

“You’re fresh out of surgery, Mr. Novak. You’re still feeling the effects of the anesthesia, they will be mostly gone when you wake up again later,” she tells him, voice gentle and thankfully not too loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Cas tries for a “thank you,” and is surprised when it comes out okay through his dry mouth. 

The nurse smiles at him, checking his IV and then walking to the other side of his bed. “Please remember, you can use this button to call us anytime you need something. Please don’t attempt to go to the toilet on your own, we’re here to help.”

“Thank you,” Cas says again, and then his eyes are suddenly drawn to the gorgeous swirling tattoos on the lady’s arm. “Your tattoos,” he says, brain spinning in a world of cotton. “Gorgeous.”

She laughs softly. “Thank you,” she says, “And now: Good night, Mr. Novak.”

With that, she and her waterfall of fiery red hair and her colorful tattoos are gone, the lights are turned off, and Cas — Cas falls asleep before he can even form another thought.

  
  
  


When Cas wakes up again, there’s sunlight tentatively streaming through the window to his right. 

It takes him a while of uncoordinated blinking and thinking until he realizes where he is, why he’s here. And then the giddiness comes, sudden and overwhelming, when he looks down at his chest and there _is none_ . Well, he can clearly see some bumps beneath his gown, but he _knows_ , now. He remembers that he’s currently all bandaged up, that “there will be swelling during the first couple of days that will go down eventually”. 

The reality is almost too much to grasp, his hands shake a little when he tries to raise them to _touch_. 

He only gets them up to a 90 degree angle when pain shoots through his chest, the strain of raising his arms pulling on tender skin and muscle-tissue. He bites down on his lower lip to quiet his whimper, carefully putting his arms back down onto the mattress again. He takes a few breaths, not too deep because that just makes his chest feel like it’s being pulled apart, ignores the stinging smell of disinfectant and curls his fingers into the bedding.

There are two drains by his sides, one left and one right, little plastic tubes that come out from beneath his shirt and end by his hips in round-ish clear plastic bottles. They look absolutely disgusting, filled with blood, and Cas can’t think about it too much before he feels slightly sick. Maybe it’s a blessing he can’t raise his hands just yet, or else he might feel where the tubes sink into his skin — and he’s not sure he could handle that.

A look up at the clock above the door tells him that it’s only a little after 5 a.m., which thankfully means there is still a lot of time left until someone will come with breakfast. The simple thought of having to sit up and move his arms and eat makes his stomach turn. 

He closes his eyes, ready to try and wait the wave of pain out, when the door to his room suddenly opens and a wave of chatter and noise enters. 

A nurse he remembers from admission rolls in a man on another hospital bed, stopping to put it against the wall by Cas’ side. The nurse speaks in a hushed tone, but the man has no such qualms. “So this is my room for the next couple of days, huh?” he asks, voice a little rough.

“Yes, Mr. Winchester. You’ll be here for at least three days. We will bring your clothes and belongings in a minute.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” he drawls, and Cas feels a spike of annoyance already. 

The nurse secures his bed, changes his IV, and then leaves with a flustered expression. 

That is also when Cas gets his first good look at the guy, and unfortunately finds himself a little flustered, too. He must be about Cas’ age, his hair blonde and sticking up into all different directions where he’s half-buried in his pillow, eyes an intense green Cas can’t help but notice even from the distance. 

“Heya there, roomie,” the man says, and that’s what helps Cas shake away the intensity of his deep green eyes and notice the rest of him, the split lip and the purplish bruise covering his entire cheek. One of his legs is raised on a pillow and in a chunky white cast, one wrist bandaged and an angry red scar stretches along his chest down where it’s hidden beneath the collar of the white hospital gown.

“You not the chatty type?” The man asks, a little more gruff, and that’s when Cas realizes that he spent ages staring — without saying a single word.

He clears his throat, praying that his blush isn’t as intensely red as it feels, burning on his cheeks. “Um, hello,” is all he comes up with, anyway.

The man smiles, something cocky and sure. 

“What you in for, man?” he asks, chuckling deep, and Cas suddenly can’t breathe.

“I’m — ” he starts, then stops. “I would rather not talk about it,” he ends up saying after an awful while, and the way the man raises his eyebrow seems like he’s trying to taunt Cas.

“Something weird, huh? Sex accident?” His voice is teasing, and Cas really isn’t sure whether it’s mean or good-natured. 

“What about you?” Cas asks, praying that he will just start talking about himself instead.

“Got into a fight with an asshole,” the man scoffs, and Cas can just imagine what type of fight it must have been. A drunken bar brawl, probably, what with it being early morning and the lilt in the man’s voice.

“Ah,” Cas returns, stomach growing a little cold. He knows better than to let his brain run away imagining things, but he can’t help but think about how this man must act outside the hospital. A macho, through and through, trying to use violence to gain respect, or something equally idiotic and dripping with toxic masculinity. Cas can just imagine how he would react if he knew that Cas is trans. Maybe he’d start the next fight right then.

“Got a broken rib. ’s why they want to keep me here for a few days to make sure there won’t be any bleeding, or something. Bullshit, I tell you. I had a few broken ribs in my days, it’s never been a problem — just had to rest a little,” he huffs, shuffling around on his bed. “Whatever, though. At least I got a good roomie, huh? We’re gonna have fun.”

Something in Cas shakes, and again, he’s not sure whether that’s good or bad. “I think — I’m going to sleep now, I think,” he says, trying to turn to his side to get comfortable, gasping when the burning pain increases. He sinks back down on his back, hoping that maybe he can try to sleep it away, but it feels like he’s being pulled apart and he can’t help a whimper.

“You alright there, man?” His roommate asks, and when Cas can’t answer through clenched teeth, he speaks again: “Hey, are you in pain? Wait, I’m gonna call a nurse for you.”

“No — it’s,” Cas takes a carefully flat breath. “I’m okay.”

The man only snorts, reaches for the call button and presses it. “You’re not looking so okay to me, dude.”

Cas feels his chest burn even more, but with anger instead of pain this time. “You don’t need to baby me,” he pushes out, breathing slow so he doesn’t hurt too much. “Who do you think you are — ”

Before he can really work himself into a haze of anger, though, a nurse comes in and interrupts his truthfully not very intimidating speech. “Good morning,” she greets them. “How can I help?”

And then the man even dares to speak up again, and Cas sees red. “My roomie there is in pain. Didn’t allow himself to call for help.”

She turns towards Cas, a soft smile on her lips: “Can I help you, Mr. Novak?”

He’s still only breathing through clenched teeth, and however much it annoys him, he has to admit defeat. “Actually, yes. I would — do you think you could give me something against the pain, please?”

“Of course. I’ll be back in a minute,” she says, and then she’s out of the room to get something.

“See,” the man says, and Cas can hear the smug smile without even looking up at his face. 

“Shut up,” Cas growls, at this point not caring about being friendly anymore. 

He ignores the man’s snickering when the nurse comes back with an IV bag, filled with something to lessen the pain. 

Before she can connect it to Cas’ IV line he asks, hushed and a little embarrassed: “Could you maybe help me over to the bathroom?”

“Sure thing,” she says, smiling brightly, and then she helps him to carefully get up and out of bed for the first time since his surgery. 

He feels a little wobbly on his legs and is very grateful for her help, because with her guidance, getting up is only half as painful as it would have been alone. She hands him the pair of sweatpants he brought so he can slip them on, conveniently figuring out that the pockets are at a height that allows him to slip both drains into them. 

It makes him hope, desperately, that the man doesn’t notice the drains or where they come from and figures things out. He doesn’t dare look up to check if he’s watching.

Cas and the nurse wobble their way over towards the bathroom, where she leaves him to pee and wash his hands.

Once he’s back in bed, she connects him to the IV. It’s heavenly when he feels the cool liquid rush through his veins, and he thanks the nurse more than is technically necessary. She leaves, and so does Cas’ pain, quicker than he thought possible. He sighs softly, wiggling into his pillow, and his eyes fall closed.

The last thing he hears before falling asleep is: “Told ya.” 

  
  
  


When Cas wakes up again, it’s to soft talk and the clattering of dishes.

He blinks his eyes open, and the first thing he notices is the fact that his chest is feeling okay again. Not great, not painless, but okay. 

Then he notices the light streaming through the windows, the clock by the entrance telling him that it’s 8 a.m. already. He fumbles for the remote by the bed, needs a while to study the buttons before he finds the right one and makes the top part of his bed move upwards so he’s sitting up slightly.

“Your breakfast is on this cart by your left,” a voice tells him, and Cas looks up to lock eyes with his roommate. “Gotta warn you though, that cheese-spread-thing tastes… not-nice.”

Cas can’t hide a smile at the way the man’s nose wrinkles when he thinks about the cheese, like he can taste it all over again. “Thanks,” he says, a little surprised with how soft his voice sounds.

“I’m Dean, by the way,” the man says, a little off-hand but with his eyes never leaving Cas. They follow when Cas carefully reaches out to grab his plate, filled with slices of bread, eggs and the honestly clumpy-looking cheese-spread Dean mentioned, and ignores the burning pull in his chest in order to gingerly pull the plate back onto his lap.

“I’m Castiel,” he says, and then goes for his food. He hadn’t realized before, but he’s really really starving. 

He moves carefully, never raising his upper arms or shoulders too high, to avoid pulling on the stitches. He eats his breakfast a little too fast, maybe, and every time he glances up, he finds Dean watching and blushing a little when caught. 

Once the food is gone, Cas puts the plate back onto the cart next to his bed and eyes the pill-box that was left there by a nurse. There’s a big white one in there for mornings, so he takes it with a gulp of water and leans back against the bed. His doctor told him before the surgery yesterday that she’ll visit him before noon, and he honestly can’t wait.

It’s the first time he even thinks about looking for his phone, and he’s thankful to find it in arms-reach in the little bedside table beside his bed.

Switching it on, it pings with three messages, and Cas can’t hide his smile. He knows they care, but he hadn’t let himself hope to get any texts or calls. 

**Gabe - 04:16**

Hey baby bro, figured u’d be out from under the 🔪 by now. Let me know how it went?

**Balth - 08:02**

Good morning, dear, hope you’re all right? I met the loveliest ladies last night, tell me if you feel up to listening to my chatter and I’ll come by?

Kisses

**Meg 😈 - 08:35**

Text me to let me know you’re not dead. Might come and see u? Would even bring some comfort cookies. Tell me your room number

“That the loved ones, wanting to know how you’re doing?” Dean asks from across the room, smiling softly.

Cas nods stiffly, once, and then forces his eyes from Dean’s face and back down to his phone, starting the first reply. 

“Meant to ask you, anyway, would it be okay for a friend to come by and see me?”

That rips Cas’ attention back towards him in an instant. Is Dean asking him for his acceptance? His consent? To have friends over?

He has to admit, the prospect of more gruff and hyper-masculine dudes in this room is not the best, but at the same time — who is he to deny Dean? If he actually goes to the lengths of asking, it would be plain rude to say “No, I’d rather not have a few more meatheads in here”. 

Cas watches him for a beat, his soft-looking smile, and says: “Sure. Just let me know beforehand. Maybe I can try and make myself presentable.”

Dean snorts, looking down somewhere towards Cas’ stubbly chin, and says: “This is pretty presentable to me.”

When Cas ends up just opening and closing his mouth, for a little while, Dean helps him out by saying: “She’ll be here around twelve, before lunch.”

“Okay,” Cas says softly, feeling like an asshole about how glad he is to hear the singular female pronoun. Maybe his girlfriend, then, and wouldn’t _that_ be awkward? “Maybe a friend will come by and visit me later, too. I hope that’s alright with you?”

Before Dean can do more than nod, though, the door to their room opens and Cas’ doctor enters with a friendly smile and a “Nice to see you again”. 

It’s all a bit of a whirlwind then, her and a nurse moving towards Cas’ bed, pulling closed a curtain in the middle of the room to shield Cas from Dean’s gaze, and he couldn’t be happier about that.

She helps him out of his hospital gown and removes the gauze, and then he catches glances down while she explains about healing and stitches and warns him about bruising. What he sees is colorful, mostly blue and black, but it’s _flat_. There’s the distinct raise of swollen skin, but it’s flat, and Cas can’t help but tear up a little, even though most of the sight is disgusting and the scars are bright red and covered in scab. 

When he looks up at his doctor while she cleans his chest with cold, sharp disinfectant, she sends him the softest smile, and the tears start to roll. 

“Are you happy?” she asks quietly, and Cas chokes a little on a sob and nods a heavy, smiling, tear-stained _Yes_. “We’ll get the drains out tomorrow morning and you can leave around noon.”

And then it’s a blur of information and being bandaged up again and given and helped into his special binder, the one he needs to wear for the upcoming three weeks to make sure the healing goes well. 

It squishes him, as it should, but with that, the cleaning of the scars and all the moving of his arms he did, the pain comes back and he asks for another dose of pain meds before his doc leaves again. She also helps him into one of the wide soft t-shirts he brought, and he immediately feels better, covered up.

She pulls the curtain back open again, before she leaves, and Dean’s on the other side of the room, headphones in his ears and purposefully looking up at the ceiling.

Cas clears his throat, says, soft and a little embarrassed: “Thanks.” 

Dean looks over to him, pulls a headphone from his ear and gives him a wobbly thumbs up.

And then the relief of getting this check-up over with, Dean being a decent guy about it and the pain medication make him suddenly realize that he’s bone-tired. He leans back on his bed, buries his face in his pillow, and falls asleep faster than maybe ever.

  
  
  


He must have slept through Dean’s check-up, because when he wakes back up, Dean is sitting up, his left wrist no longer bandaged but showing angry red bruised knuckles where it lays atop the blankets. 

There’s a petite redhead next to his bed on a chair, speaking in a choked voice and sounding a little heartbroken.

Cas doesn’t want to spy or listen in, but he can’t really help overhearing them.

“You _know_ I love you, and that I’m so unbelievably grateful you defended Gilda and I from that bigoted fuck-face. But, for heaven’s sake, Dean, I didn’t want you to get hurt for it! I thought you’d just show him out, not start a fist-fight with him and his minions of homophobia.” She takes a break, a deep and shaky breath. “I love you. Thank you for looking out for me. But promise me, you absolute moron, to n _ever do this again_!”

Dean grumbles, and she reaches out to punch his shoulder. “Hey, ouch! Don’t hurt the patients! Rude.”

“Promise me,” she demands, brows knitted and lower lip pushed out.

“I can’t, Charlie,” Dean says eventually, voice gentle. “I can’t. I’d do it again, you know that. You’re like my little sister — but even without that, I’d have done it. It might have taken me a while, to accept myself, but I won’t ever let anyone get hurt the way I was. So, can’t make any promises.”

Cas tries to keep his eyes closed, but he hears a muffled “Thank you, really. I’m so proud of you.” and what sounds like the ruffling of blankets and cloth. 

“Come on, Charles,” Dean says again. “You promised me one of Gilda’s heavenly chocolate cupcakes. Pay up.”

He hears giggling, and decides that maybe it’s safe to let them know he’s awake now without ruining their moment.

He shuffles in bed, yawns and blinks open his eyes. When he looks up, Dean is looking over with a smile, holding up a fancy cupcake and saluting with it.

“Welcome back to the living, Cas.”

“He—” he breaks off with a cough, voice raw. “Hey. Hello.” He glances over to Dean’s guest with a careful smile, and she beams and waves a hand in the air as soon as their eyes meet. “I’m Cas,” he tells her with a smile.

“Charlie,” she answers. “And I got two more cupcakes, if you feel like tasting chocolate heaven?” She’s already up and out of her chair before Cas can answer, presenting him with a cupcake in a little plastic tub. 

“Are… are you sure? I would love to, obviously, but I don’t want to eat anything meant for someone else,” Cas stutters, feeling his cheeks burning a little.

Charlie just laughs, pushes the cupcake further into his space and says: “If you don’t take it, Dean will eat all three of them — and I’m pretty sure no doctor here would be happy about that. That boy’s diet is terrible as it is.”

Cas tries not to laugh, but what he ends up with is a little snort, and slowly raises his arm to take the cupcake from her. “Thank you, then! And Dean, you’re welcome. It sounds like I’m doing your arteries a service.”

Dean just sits there and smiles a smile so bright, it must be pulling on his split lip. “Cheers,” he says, raising his half-eaten cupcake up into the air again.

“Cheers,” Cas laughs, and does the same, raising his cupcake as well. 

Charlie was right, Cas is pretty sure this is what heaven tastes like, and he tells her so around a mouthful of cream-cheese frosting.

Dean just nods, eyes closed and a look of bliss on his face.

Charlie fills almost the entire next hour with her chatter, tells Dean about how the bakery she and her girlfriend Gilda own has been going. And Cas has assumed, from her earlier words, but hearing about her and her girlfriend now makes him feel… happy, on one hand, and really, really bad for his earlier assumptions about Dean on the other. She babbles about the bakery and about Dean’s friends, and she turns towards Cas and explains, sometimes, who Sam is, or their friends Joe and Rowena.

They are only interrupted when there’s a knock on the door, a nurse wheeling in a cart with their lunch, and all three of them are rather surprised when they notice that the clock climbed past noon while they were chatting.

“Gosh, guys, I’m so sorry! I promised Gilda to be home for lunch, I’ll leave you to it,” Charlie babbles, and then she gets up and leans down to press a kiss to a grumpy looking Dean’s forehead. She gathers her bags, moves over to Cas’ bed too, looking at him with a careful but very bright smile. “Cas, it was so nice to meet you. Maybe we’ll see each other again?”

There’s a lump in Cas’ throat when he answers, because it’s been a long time since anyone ever met and got to know him with so little qualms and prejudice. “It was really nice to meet you too, Charlie.” Softer, he adds: “And I’d really like that.”

With a last smile, she reaches into her pocket and sneaks him a business card of Cake My Day, squeezing his hand and then turning to leave.

“See you, bitches,” she says, and then she’s out of the room and leaves them with a smiling nurse that hands them their food and leaves, too.

It’s spaghetti today, and they slurp up their noodles in silence until they are both done and move to finishing the small bowls of fruit salad they got for desert. 

It’s after that, that Cas starts a conversation with Dean for the first time.

“So that fruit salad was disappointing, after Charlie’s cupcake.”

Dean laughs, giddy and genuine, and agrees with a nod. “That is very true. Pretty much every desert will suck now that you got a taste of Gilda and Charlie’s baking, I’m sorry.”

“I think that was worth it, though,” Cas grins back.

Dean’s watching him again, with something soft on his face, and Cas suddenly feels overwhelmed with guilt again for the things he assumed. “I wanted — Dean, I wanted to apologize,” he fumbles, voice raw and throat hurting a little.

“Apologize? For what?”

“I was very rude, and cold, in the beginning. I had certain ideas about you, I thought I figured you out right after meeting you and — I now know my first impression was wrong. I was very wrong and I’m sorry I was harsh and unfriendly because of that,” Cas says, fixing his eyes somewhere on the wall to Dean’s left.

Dean’s silent for a while, but when he speaks up, his voice is friendly and calm: “That’s alright. We all do this sometimes. ’m just glad you warmed up to me and my amazing personality.” He sounds teasing, and when Cas dares to look at him, there’s a cheeky smile on his face.

There’s a laugh bubbling from Cas’ throat before he knows it, and he breathes: “I really did, didn’t I?”

“Hmm,” Dean agrees, but beneath the confidence, there seems to be a bit of worry left still. 

“So,” Cas starts again, a little unsure of where he’s even going. “So you’re looking the way you are because you defended Charlie from someone?”

Dean huffs, and there’s a soft pink blush forming on his cheeks. “Well, yeah. Didn’t think you heard that. We, um. We were out to celebrate a friend’s birthday, and we were at this pretty cool gay bar in town, right? And it’s always been a safe space, so far, but there was this burly, all-American, bigoted asshole, hauling slurs at Charlie and Gilda when they kissed. And I just —” He breaks off, looking down at his knuckles. “I just wanted to show him out, told him to shut the fuck up. But outside, he had his posse waiting. Things escalated a little.”

“That’s — That’s really, really amazing of you, to defend your friends like that. I’m sorry you got hurt like this, though,” Cas says quietly, and Dean smiles softly. 

“Yeah, well. Let’s talk about something nice? Tell me about your life?”

And that’s how Cas finds himself gushing about his job as a librarian, how they end up sharing their favorite and least favorite books, movies and tv shows, The Hobbit universe, mythology, _everything and nothing_.

Time races, they only get interrupted once or twice when nurses come to help them to the bathroom or one makes Cas walk up and down the hallway once, and suddenly it’s time for dinner and Dean is telling Cas about his little brother Sam and their relationship around bites of his sandwich.

They may even end up talking after switching off the lights, about their favorite fairy tales and Disney movies and favorite foods, and they only stop when their eyes start to droop and their voices grow tired.

Cas falls asleep to a soft murmur of “Sweet dreams, Cas,” and it feels maybe a little too intimate and important, but he’ll worry about that tomorrow.

  
  
  


Cas wakes up before Dean the next day, and he bathes in the long minutes he gets to look at him unabashedly, taking in his tousled hair, long lashes fanned on his cheeks, lips soft and slightly open. 

When Dean wakes up, the first thing he does is blink his eyes open and turn towards Cas. He looks a little blurry and confused, but when he catches Cas’ eyes he smiles lazily. “Morning, sweetheart,” he yawns, and Cas feels all fuzzy and simultaneously annoyed at himself for it.

They only have a few more hours until Cas’ doctor will visit and then hopefully only a handful more until he’ll be allowed to go home.

And he’s absolutely ecstatic, he cannot wait to get rid of these drains and the pain that comes with them. He can’t wait to walk out of here, flat-chested, and feel a little more like himself. He can’t wait for the pain to lessen and the scars to heal and the bruises to fade, can’t wait to take off the binder forever. 

But at his core, it feels a little bittersweet, leaving Dean and this bubble they’ve been living in for the past days.

Their breakfast comes soon after, and they eat together in silence.

Cas gets up after, for the first time all alone, and walks to the bathroom and carefully cleans himself a little, uses deodorant and brushes his teeth. 

When he gets back out, there’s a nurse finishing up on giving Dean his daily thrombosis shot. He’s out of his hospital gown now, too, wearing a thread-bare ACDC shirt and basketball shorts with legs so wide he managed to fit them over his cast. The nurse is helping him out of bed after the shot, showing him how to use his crutches and hobble around the room on one leg. It’s hard for him with his hurt hand and ribs, and every time he winces, Cas just wants to rush over and help him back to bed against all his better judgement.

When he manages on his own, the nurse leaves again and Dean gets back in bed, his leg raised on a pillow again, crutches leaning against the bed.

“She mentioned I’d probably have to stay for another day, and then come back in a week to get a new cast,” Dean sighs, gently touching the scar on his chest. “I can’t believe I’ll have to live with this huge chunky thing for another three to four weeks.”

“I twisted my ankle when I was twelve, and having to keep still and sit around was… usually not a hardship for me back then, to be honest. I enjoyed reading and painting. But even for me, it grew boring after a week. I kept hurting myself a little more and more when I tried to walk, to get out and spend time with my friends,” Cas says. “But you have so many people who care about you, it seems. I’m certain they will come by and visit and feed and entertain you. Maybe it’ll be easier then?”

Dean huffs, and says: “Maybe. So, what about you…?”

“I will probably get to go home after my check-up today,” Cas says, and even to his own ears, his voice sounds sad. 

“Oh,” Dean mumbles, fingers playing with the hem of his shorts. “Oh, well. That sucks.”

“Yeah,” Cas agrees quietly, watching the way Dean’s gorgeous green eyes fly up at his face and back down to Dean’s lap. “It kind of will.”

“I think I’ll miss you,” Dean blurts, and he looks as surprised that he said this as Cas feels. His cheeks are pink and he babbles on quickly, seemingly wanting to distract from his words. “Well, then. You didn’t give me an answer yesterday, about apple pie. What’s your favorite type of desert? Will I ever get an answer?”

And so they slip right back into their conversation from last night, and it feels like the most natural thing.

When Cas’ doctor comes in again, Dean is turned away from them and putting his headphones in before she can even pull the curtain closed. Getting the bandages off and being cleaned a little is the same as yesterday, cold and uncomfortable, but then the drains come out and it hurts like _hell_. 

His doc is telling him how to and what he needs to cover his nipples for the next week, how to clean and shower, how to react if something starts hurting, turns red or weird. She informs him how good it all looks already, when the bruising should be gone, how the stitches will dissolve and when he can start treating his scars with the balm she gives him.

Overall, it’s good. It’s really, really good, and Cas feels really fucking giddy. 

She helps him back into his binder, congratulates him, tells him to not do any type of sport or heavy lifting for the next five weeks, to be careful and gentle with himself. And then she says goodbye, tells him to call whenever he has a question or worries or anything goes wrong. She tells him he’ll get his prescription for meds when he gets checked out, and to take three of them a day until he runs out.

Cas carefully gets his shirt back over his head, and she pulls the curtain back open.

“I wish you the best of luck, Castiel,” she says with a last smile, and then she walks out. 

Cas finds Dean sitting up, eyes fluttering open as he pulls his headphones away. He’s humming softly, and Cas feels like his whole body is tingling.

“You good?” He asks with a grin, settling back against his blanket.

“I really am, yeah,” Cas breathes back. 

“Good. I’m really glad.”

And then it’s time for pain medication and lunch, chicken, rice and vegetables, and Cas gets up to give Dean his chicken and take half of his vegetables instead. He somehow ends up eating in the chair by Dean’s bed instead of on his own bed, and he spends his time watching Dean shovel food into his mouth and feeling way too delighted by it.

“My doctor told me a nurse would come by around two for my last thrombosis shot and then… I would have to sign a few things and could leave,” Cas says eventually, looking at the clock to find it creeping closer to one already.

He’d already sent a text to Gabe, who in turn promised him to wait outside the hospital at 2:15 sharp to pick up his “lil bro”.

“You could always — I mean. Not that you want to, probably, but. I mean, you could visit me tomorrow,” Dean mumbles. “No, that was probably a horrible idea, you want to get out of here and not come back for as long as possible.”

Cas feels a smile spread across his cheeks, wider than usual, and says: “Actually, I would love that.”

Dean sounds a little breathless when he sits up, looks at him and says: “Yeah?”

“Yes. And maybe I could give you my number, so you can text me when you feel ready for a visitor?”

There’s a twinkle in Dean’s eyes when he leans over the edge of his bed to grab his phone from his nightstand. “I’m ready, tell me.”

And when Dean has his number, Cas’ phone vibrates on his nightstand with a text that says: “Hey there, you come here often? ;)” and Cas texts back “At least once more, tomorrow” and they both dissolve into giggles and aren’t even quite sure why they can’t stop.

They keep talking while Cas packs up his stuff and his stomach grows heavier, and when the nurse comes in for Cas’ shot he feels a little sad.

Dean hasn’t asked again, why he’s here. But Cas feels more and more like maybe he… _wants_ to tell him, anyway. Not like he should, but like he wants to. To get it out of the way, have Dean know. See how he reacts, if it even makes sense to feel this way, to come back tomorrow to see him. To make sure he’d still like Cas.

So he has his bag carefully slung over his shoulder, his nurse already outside and waiting to guide him out, when he looks at Dean, and his way too adorable smile, and says, a little like ripping off a bandaid: “Top surgery, is why I was in. I’m trans.”

And Dean’s eyebrows grow a little higher, but his smile doesn’t really falter either. 

“Okay, then,” Cas stutters, when Dean doesn’t say anything for an awfully long-feeling minute. “I’m gonna — bye, Dean. Get well soon.” And then he stumbles out of the room. Shit.

He’s not even by the reception when his phone buzzes in his pocket, and he rushes a little through signing everything, pocketing his prescriptions and instructions and thanking his nurses for how lovely they cared for him, before he walks out the door and pulls out his phone.

It’s not a text from Gabe, like he expected.

It’s Dean.

**Dean - 14:12:**

Thank you for telling me, I’m sorry I was a little dumb about making words. I’m real happy for you! Hope you’ll still consider coming by tomorrow? 😊🤕

Cas is still smiling softly to himself when Gabe pulls up in front of him and jumps out of the car to open the passenger door for him. 

“Wow, Gabe, this is possibly the nicest you’ve ever been to me,” Cas laughs, setting down the bag on his seat before turning towards Gabe, who is awfully inappropriately staring at his chest. “Stop that.”

Gabe’s eyes snap up immediately, but they aren’t teasing or mean, like so often. He looks soft and genuinely happy. “Lookin’ good, little brother,” he says, raising an arm to gently punch Cas’ shoulder. “Now hop in, let’s get you home.”

Cas has barely buckled himself in when Gabe starts the car. “What do you say, shall we get Wendy’s on our way?”

“Sure,” Cas smiles, leaning back against the headrest and enjoying the way the sun shines at his face through the window. He puts his right hand between his chest and the seatbelt carefully, to minimize the pressure. “But could you please, for the love of god, drive a little smoother. I’m not sure I could survive one of your sharp turns today.”

His phone buzzes again.

**Dean - 14:19:**

Holy shit, I kind of really feel like a fucking dick for making that “sex accident” joke when we first met. Pls don’t hate me, I swear I’m not that much of an asshole

Cas just tips his head back and laughs, ignoring Gabe’s imploring questions and one-handed (and thankfully rather half-hearted and unfocussed) attempts at stealing Cas’ phone.

  
  
  


When Cas sits down on the bus the next day, amidst sweaty people and elbows he has to save his body from, he almost regrets promising to visit Dean without even considering how he’d get back to the hospital. 

But he makes it through the drive in one piece, makes it into the hospital and finds Dean in his room, the one he now shares with an elderly man, beaming at Cas as soon as he steps inside.

They decide they both want a change of scenery, so he helps Dean out of bed and hop his way outside to the small hospital gardens where they find a bench in the sun to rest on.

And when Cas pulls a bag of food from his backpack and sees Dean’s face light up, he knows that even the drive here was worth it.

“I brought burgers, since you wouldn’t shut up about this place on main street?” Cas says, pulling Dean’s burger from the bag and handing it to him.

“Oh my god,” Dean sighs, opening the wrapping and taking a bite. “Oh my god, Cas, you are the _best_. This is — this is perfect.”

Cas laughs, watching the way Dean’s eyes are bright, his freckles even more pronounced in the sunlight. “Well, you told me exactly how you like your bacon cheeseburger several times. And even if you hadn’t, you seem to be a regular there and everyone knows your order by heart, if Ellen is to be believed.”

Dean’s grin only grows. “So you’ve met Ellen, huh? Introduction to the family will be a lot easier now, if you have her on your side already. Seriously though, thank you so much. This is amazing,” he says, leaning closer to pluck a fry from the bag on Cas’ lap. “You’re amazing.”

Dean is… so close, and so gorgeous, and looking a lot better than when he was first wheeled into the hospital room. His split lip is healing alright, the bruise on his cheek fading a little. The way the sun dances across his face, his hair looking lighter than usual, he looks so incredibly beautiful, it makes Cas ache somewhere deep down in his stomach.

“So are you,” Cas murmurs, and Dean pulls the fry back from where it was on its way to his mouth and blinks up at him from under dark lashes. 

“Yeah?” Dean asks, somehow cocky and coy at the same time. “What are we gonna do about that, Cas?”

“We could — well, we. I mean.” He’s never been in a situation like this, never in his 26 years of life has he ever felt something like this. It’s ridiculous, because he’s only known Dean for three days. But never, ever, has anyone seemed interested in him the way Dean does. “We should, if you — want to.”

Dean smiles, something soft and not at all cocky anymore, and then he licks his lips and says: “Can I kiss you, Cas?” 

“I would — please, yes,” he stutters, and then he doesn’t even have to care about the way his cheeks and ears burn, because Dean leans in.

It’s soft, so goddamn soft, Dean’s plush lips brushing against Cas’, tasting of salt. Just a press, and then Dean pulls back, only stopping briefly to bump their noses against each other gently. 

“We should,” Dean starts, and then he ducks back down and kisses him again, longer this time, lips moving gently against Cas’. When he moves back, he shakes his head a little, grinning. “We should eat, probably, before the food goes cold entirely.”

“We, yes, we should,” Cas agrees, but then _he_ ducks in again and kisses Dean, careful of his split lip but not quite ready to give up the giddy feeling in his chest just yet. 

Dean makes a soft noise against his lips, and Cas brings his hand up as far as he can, until he can press it to Dean’s stubbly cheek, thumb stoking against his beard. 

The food is cold when they get back to it, but neither of them cares. Much. Dean complains a little, but all he demands as an excuse is more kisses after they finish their fries. And Cas is pretty okay with that.

They stay outside until they grow cold, talking and laughing and, a few more memorable times, kissing.

When they move inside, Cas gets to know Rufus, Dean’s new roommate. He’s a little grumpy, but they find topics of shared interest, and Cas stays until after Dean’s doctor sees him for the last time and he gets to check out and go home. 

Dean tells him that Charlie will come pick him up, and Cas decides to wait with him for her to arrive. So they walk out together and Cas lets Dean lean on him while they wait for Charlie to come and pick Dean up in front of the hospital.

And then, at both of their insistences, Cas gets into the car with Dean and they drive him home first.

He sits with Dean in the back of Charlie’s obnoxiously green VW beetle. Dean’s turned towards Cas and leaning against the door, his broken leg heavy on Cas’ lap, and he’s just looking at him from across the car for the entire drive with a dopey smile. 

When they stop in front of his apartment complex, Cas leans all the way over the middle seat and Dean’s chunky cast and kisses him again, maybe more than once and until Charlie laughs and chucks a crumpled paper bag at their heads. “Get out,” she says, but only manages to look stern for a few seconds. “And come back soon.”

Cas is on his way up the stairs when his phone buzzes.

**Dean - 16:49:**

I really hope to see you again

When he unlocks the door, he gets a second message.

**Dean - 16:52:**

As soon as possible 

**Sent - 16:55:**

I want that, too 😊

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking about adding to this fic, if people like it and ideas and motivation come to me. So. There's that.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading! 
> 
> You can find my [Tumblr](https://suckerfordeansfreckles.tumblr.com/) and a [rebloggable version](https://suckerfordeansfreckles.tumblr.com/post/613242660211343360/first-impressions-read-on-ao3-relationship) of this fic there. Would love to see you over there as well!


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